


About a Girl

by ronniesarchiekins



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 90's Teen Romance Vibes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Veronica Lodge, Childhood Friends, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Out of Character Veronica Lodge, Road Trip, Trust Issues, Veronica Wears Jeans- Get Over It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronniesarchiekins/pseuds/ronniesarchiekins
Summary: An alternate universe where Archie lets go of his hero complex and Veronica learns her worth.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	About a Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing? With an end goal? Unheard of. Anyways enjoy!

Everything is different than how Archie remembers it. Riverdale High feels smaller and quieter- nothing like the loud, rambunctious building he feared walking into on his first day of seventh grade. The place where football players stood ten feet tall and cheerleaders were intimidatingly beautiful and mature. To a middle schooler, everything seemed bigger and better than it really was, but now he recognizes it to be just the right size and just the right amount of disappointment. Maybe it’s because he got older, or taller. Or something. 

Honestly, he expected to find himself living out his senior year back at Lincoln High where he’d spent the past three years throwing a football and sneaking out of trashed houses after a party that got dumped on by the cops. He’d go to the end of the year bonfire and get hammered at prom with some pretty girl and all his friends and then afterward they’d fall asleep in Tommy’s basement smelling like booze and cigarettes. 

Maybe if things didn’t go south so fast. If Tommy’s mom hadn’t died and if Archie didn’t get kicked off the team or maybe if that night before his birthday he hadn’t meddled as he did, everything would have worked out just fine. He might have avoided the drugs and the alcoholism Tommy was drowning in and managed to pull them both out. 

But thanks to him, Tommy got admitted and Archie got sent back to Riverdale in hopes he’d sober up and keep busy enough to get into a college that next year. 

Not every plan works out for the better.

The counselor’s office isn’t the drab, beige square room it once was when Archie walks back in three years later. Big doors are leading into the front office, and the walls are decorated in banners, flags, and fliers showcasing bulldog pride. Even the curtains are blue and gold.

At the desk sits a woman, probably somewhere between forty and fifty (though her gray hair suggests otherwise), stacking a pile of folders into a large plastic tupperware. 

“Oh!” She says, looking up and smiling brightly. “You must be Mister Archie Andrews! I’m Ms. Patch. Please, have a seat.”

Archie drops his backpack next to the cushioned chair opposite Ms. Patch and sits down, glancing around the room in hopes of catching a glimpse of someone he knows on the various sports and activity posters. 

He doesn’t.

“Your records have transferred smoothly and everything is looking good.” Ms. Patch says, folding her hands in front of her and focusing her attention on Archie entirely. He regards it as a nice change of pace considering even the best teachers and faculty members at Lincoln didn’t give a rat’s ass about him. Even after what happened. 

“Did your dad tell you about the possibility of weekly appointments?” Ms. Patch asks. Archie nods, recalling the extensive conversation he had with his mother about giving in to help to gain something greater in return. He thinks it’s total bullshit. 

“I told him I’d think about it,” he says. Ms. Patch smiles thinly and nods.

“Take all the time you need,” she says. “Now onto schedules!”

Archie misses half of first period discussing classes and extracurriculars but feels increasingly grateful for it when he nearly falls asleep during the history lecture. As it turns out, the only interesting parts of American history are the ones where they got their asses kicked. This week’s lesson doesn’t involve that portion of events. 

The class is near its end and he’s convinced he’s dreamt the last fifteen minutes when the incessant droning about George Washington is interrupted by a flaming redhead bursting through the door with a flyer in her hand. 

“Which one of you incels on the football team covered my Vixens sign-up sheet with rudimentary interpretations of Britney Spears circa two-thousand seven?” The girl demands, slamming the page onto Mr. Abbott’s desk with a loud smack. Several boys in the room snicker, a few chuckling into their history books.

“Miss Blossom, if you wouldn’t mind saving this discussion for the lunch hour, I have a class to teach,” Mr. Abbott says. 

Wait, Archie thinks, Blossom? As in Cheryl?

Sure, three years isn’t long enough to become completely unrecognizable, but Cheryl could have fooled him. Archie remembers her as the quiet, somewhat judgemental girl who sat in the corner and got straight A’s. Not the powerhouse in front of him who could probably put an entire boy’s locker room on their hands and knees. Even Archie feels the intimidation creeping upon him.

“Oh, please, Mr. A. Billy over there is so over this lesson that if I were to peek into his pea brain he’d already have a hand up Jenny’s skirt,” Cheryl says. “Now who cares to fess up?” Her sickeningly sweet smile causes the room to sink back down into their seats. Archie glances around in amusement. He’s grateful to be the new kid in town. 

The gratefulness dies.

“I’ll be,” Cheryl says, fixing her eyes on Archie in the third row, who’s starting to feel a little bit like a mouse to a snake. “Is that Archie Andrews?”

The bell rings and everyone is jumping out of their seats, ignoring Mr. Abbott’s call for the homework assignment and leaving Archie and Cheryl alone in the classroom layered in summer dust. 

“That’s me,” Archie says weakly, “good to see you, Cheryl.”

Cheryl is decked out in all red, from her bright lips to the velvet of her shoes. She looks like a character in a James Bond film. The beautiful woman who’s just mysterious enough for the audience to question her true motive. 

“Wait until I tell Betty and Jughead that their childhood bestie is in town and they didn’t have a clue,” Cheryl says, tutting. “The nerve of you, Andrews.” 

He isn’t sure how to respond to that. After all, she’s correct in assuming they don’t know, but how does someone say to their old friends they haven’t seen for three years that they’re coming back? In a letter? The first text message he’s sent them since three Augusts ago? He couldn’t figure it out, so he chose the element of surprise instead. Maybe then he won’t have to address the immense gap in his life that he’ll spend his entire senior year filling if they even want to be his friends again. He knows he doesn’t deserve it after leaving as he did. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he says. Cheryl rolls her eyes.

“Leaving with no goodbye after pushing everyone away and dodging blame is always a dick move.”

Archie thinks of Tommy and his sunken eyes laying in that hospital bed. He thinks of Tommy’s mother screaming at Archie and telling him how it’s all his fault that her son would be spending his senior year at a mental institution instead of on the field or at prom. This is why when Archie left the next month with his bag in his arm and a goodbye hanging on his lips, he vowed to leave it alone and hope for the best. He didn’t know what the best would be, but he waited. 

So far, nothing.

“You don’t know anything about me, Cheryl,” he says. As he grabs his bag and finds the door, Cheryl calls after him.

“Neither do you, you egotistical jerk.”

It’s a miracle that Archie’s schedule manages to avoid every single person he used to know in the first half of the day. When lunch comes around, however, he starts to realize that avoiding isn’t going to be much of an option anymore.

Riverdale High is not big. In fact, there are probably no more than four-hundred students if he includes seventh and eighth-graders in the mix. It isn’t as if that’s any issue- Archie appreciates smaller schools for the familiarity- but it also means that when the senior’s time for lunch comes around that he’ll encounter every single person he’s been hoping he won’t have to speak to.

It starts in the line.

Archie is dishing up mashed potatoes when Reggie Mantle is just behind him, sweet-talking the lunch lady into giving him extra roast beef.

“C’mon, Sally, I’m on the football team,” he’s saying, receiving a scowl from Ms. Jenson behind the counter. “I need meat on my bones. Don’t you want us to win a game?”

“I wish I cared, Mantle,” Ms. Jenson says, deadpan. “Now get your mashed potatoes and sit down.”

Reggie grumbles and reaches for the spoon Archie’s just set down before noticing the person just in front of him.

“No way!” He says, “Archie motherfucking Andrews?!” 

“Detention!” Ms. Jenson calls. Reggie ignores her.

“What the hell are you doing here, man?”

“Moved back last week. How’ve you been, Reg?” 

“Oh, you know. Kickin’ ass on the field. We’re nothing without you, though. I hear you’re Lincoln High’s star quarterback.”

“My football career is over, Reg.”

Reggie looks genuinely hurt by this.

“No way, man. It’s your senior year! We need you out there,” he says. Archie chuckles and starts to walk away.

“Sorry. Consider me retired.” 

He’s hoping the conversation will end there, but it doesn’t. Instead, Reggie takes a seat across from him and asks him anything and everything about football at Lincoln. Archie indulges him just to avoid questions he can’t answer but gets sidetracked when Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones walk into the cafeteria hand in hand.

Archie sputters, “are they dating?”

Reggie nods. “Happened last year. Weird, isn’t it?”

Archie thinks about it for a moment. No, it isn’t weird, really. In fact, it makes more sense than Archie cares to admit. Betty and Jughead were always close, switching from endless banter to philosophical conversation at Pop’s while Archie sat in silence, eating his burger and stealing Betty’s fries. 

Truthfully, it was under his nose the whole time.

“Huh. Wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

“What, you haven’t talked to them? I thought you knew.”

“I haven’t kept in touch with anyone, Reg.”

“Right.”

“I’m gonna go say hello. See you later?”

“Sure, man.”

He ignores the few stray stares he passes on his way to their table, trying not to get sidetracked by anyone he might know. Back in Lincoln, it was easy to blend in at first. Archie wasn’t particularly attractive his freshman year, all gangly and awkward, but by 10th he’d gotten fit over the summer and picked up the position of the quarterback on the football team, and that all changed. There, it was like he was a celebrity. He maintained his autonomy while still being fawned over for his looks and athletic ability.

Riverdale isn’t like that. Here, his every move has been watched since infancy. And even though he didn’t bother keeping up with anybody he left behind, he knows they kept up with him. It’s the Riverdale way in a sense. No one has a right to know anything but they’ll still go as far as their own entitlement will allow. 

Betty and Jughead don’t stare. Their heads are close together in quiet conversation, masked by the loud chatter of the lunchroom and their soft-spoken tones. 

“Jug, hey,” Archie says. They look up, catching sight of Archie where he stands in front of their table, holding his tray in his hands and formulating some sort of game plan in his head. He’s at a loss. What the hell does a person say to their best friends they ghosted for years?

“Archie Andrews, you don’t say,” Jughead says, but he’s smiling a wide smile as rises from his seat to cross over and capture Archie in a surprisingly rough hug.

“How the hell have you been, Jones?” 

“As good as I can be, living here.”

“It’s not so bad. I missed it, actually.”

Betty is silent in her seat, looking slightly shocked and maybe even upset. She’s glancing back and forth between her boyfriend and Archie, the gears behind her eyes smoking as they attempt to work out the reality of the situation. Betty has never been easy to impress. She has a remarkable ability to see right through everything- like peering down at the bottom of a lake through all the filthy murk.

“Betts, hi,” Archie tries.

“You’re back,” she says matter-of-factly, raising her eyebrows. Archie shifts, slightly unsettled by the calmness in her tone.

“Yeah, just got back last week.”

“Why?”

Jughead gives her a look, part incredulous and part utter confusion. “Betty, what-.”

“Nothing. Sorry. It’s good to see you, Archie.” 

“Yeah, you too Betty.”

“Why don’t you sit down and we can catch up?” Jughead asks. Archie, feeling a little off-balance after Betty’s sour reaction, tries to muster an excuse to go anywhere else but here.

“Actually, Jug, I have to go talk to Ms. Patch about retaking a math class. Catch up at Pop’s later?”

“Sure, yeah. See you later,” Jughead says. Archie tries to forget the absent-minded tone of voice his friend held, figuring he deserves the treatment he’s getting for what he did. 

After all, like everything, this is entirely his own fault.

Archie does go to Ms. Patch’s office, but not to talk about math. He sits in a chair in the corner of the room and eats his lunch, placing it on the staff’s bussing table in the front room when he’s finished. He isn't sure where Ms. Patch has gone to, but he doesn’t mind being alone. The sounds of the printer mixed with chirping birds outside the window are enough to separate from himself, filling any space in his brain that might become a home for festering self-loathing. 

Tommy would tell him to put his big boy pants on and get over it. Archie wouldn’t listen.

He’s going over his history notes when the office door opens, Ms. Patch’s voice breaking the silence.

“And you have a space available to do this?” She’s saying. Archie listens in, sinking in his chair a little as her voice comes nearer.

“Yes, I just need help putting it together. It’s an old car, and it doesn’t need to run or anything, it’s just assembly as I finish it.”

The voice sounds vaguely familiar but Archie can’t quite put his finger on it. 

Luckily, he isn’t left guessing. Ms. Patch enters the room with a girl just behind her. The black hair registers first, then her dark brown eyes and well-maintained posture. 

It’s Veronica Lodge. Except she looks nothing like Veronica Lodge. 

Her hair is just as dark, but it’s messier and she has two thin strands on either side of her eyes, cut short enough to hit her cheekbones. Her lips are a warm berry color and she has eyeliner so perfectly executed that even Archie knows she must have taken time on it. 

Even more shocking is her clothes. They aren’t the preppy rich-girl outfits she sported from kindergarten to eighth grade- instead, she’s wearing a brown beaded tank top that looks like some sort of silky fabric from her waist up to where the beans begin. It hugs her frame and comes to a halt at her hips in a way Archie is certain would get her kicked out of Riverdale High if it had any interest in enforcing their old-fashioned dress code. And as if she can’t possibly throw him off any further, Archie notices a particularly not-Veronica-like article of clothing.

Veronica Cecilia Lodge is wearing jeans. 

They’re classic blue jeans, unassuming but very much a statement for a girl who spent the entirety of her childhood matching the physical and material status of her borderline criminally rich parents. Archie has no idea what to think.

They were never close, him and Veronica. Not until seventh grade when Betty forced them to be civil so she could spend time with them both and not have to put up with constant arguing and low-blow insults. It wouldn’t have worked if Veronica wasn’t going through a particularly nasty phase with her mom that involved a short period of silent treatment and a quick transition into endless yelling. Betty got fed up with the constant complaining which led Veronica to confide in Archie after a particularly bad screaming match where Veronica broke a thousand-year-old vase her father won at an auction in Italy. 

From then on they were fairly good friends. Until, well.

Archie stops his staring and tries to go unnoticed as he gets up and grabs his bag, but he’s stopped when Ms. Patch catches him leaving.

“Oh! Archie, how convenient to find you here,” she says, drawing Veronica’s attention to where he stands in the doorway.

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” he says. Veronica looks as though she’s covering up a suppressed laugh, then shakes her head as if she’s in complete disbelief. 

“Wow, Archie Goddamn Andrews makes an appearance. This must be awkward for you,” she says. He’s taken aback by her bluntly rude tone. Like, okay, they were friends for a while and had a few good memories together, but even Jughead managed to move past it and seem somewhat happy to see him. Veronica just looks as if she’d be willing to feed him to a shark tank if given the chance.

“Miss Lodge, please,” Ms. Patch says.

“Sorry.”

“Actually, I have a wonderful idea,” Ms. Patch says, going around her desk to sit down. “Archie, you have experience in construction, yes?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good! You’ll be helping Miss Lodge build the art structure for Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe remodel funded by the Historical Restoration Society here at Riverdale High. It’ll cover your community service if I pull a few strings.”

Archie feels his heart sink as Veronica bursts out in fury, giving Ms. Patch The Glare. He isn’t sure how she does it, but every time Veronica has that look on her face it means immediate danger. Run. Flee. Save yourself.

“Are you kidding me? I’d rather put up with Reggie Mantle commenting on my ass every hour than have to work with him,” Veronica says, “do you have any idea the bullshit I went through because of this jackass?”

“That’ll be a detention, Miss Lodge. And you better get comfortable working with Mr. Andrews or you can kiss your funding goodbye.”

Veronica looks deadly, refusing to turn in his direction. She huffs and pushes past him, forcing her way through the door.

Archie is stunned.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. I think she hates me,” he says.

“Then this will be a lovely opportunity for you to learn to accept the consequences of your actions. That’ll be all, Mr. Andrews.”

Great.

  
  


Pop’s is practically empty when he arrives hours later, wearing a well-worn denim jacket he found in the front closet that must be his dad’s. 

“You look like I did at that age,” he said, walking Archie out the front door. Fred Andrews was born to be a dad. He knows all the right things to say and do at any given time, and Archie never feels out of place around him. Being back is more or less eye-opening in that regard. He just wishes he could have seen it sooner.

Pop Tate greets him with a smile and shoulder grab over the counter and asks him how he’s been. They talk a bit back and forth until Archie hears the bell on the front entrance jingle to reveal Betty and Jughead.

Betty looks less offended by him now, though remains fairly smug as they sit down together, ordering milkshakes and fries.

“So,” Archie says, pointing between the two, “you guys.”

Jughead laughs and Betty looks shy, sipping her milkshake to avoid direct eye contact.

“Us. Yeah,” Jug says, looking fondly at his awkward girlfriend who’s shoving fries in her mouth. “Last summer we started hanging out again and then… well.”

Archie nods, reaching over to poke Betty on the arm.

“What, are you embarrassed by your weirdo boyfriend?” Archie taunts, laughing at her shy demeanor.

“No, I’m embarrassed by this conversation,” she says with a wince. “Do you have a girlfriend, Arch?” 

Archie shakes his head, feeling a little strange. There were a few girls at Lincoln with nice hair and plenty of interest in him, but Archie never felt it. Then everything went to shit and he didn’t even have the time to go to a dance or hang out after school. Tommy made fun of him for it, but Archie didn’t find it in him to pay any attention once the Jack Daniels got passed around. 

“That’s surprising,” Jughead says, “you being the star quarterback and all.” His expression is light-hearted and he and Betty are chuckling, but Archie doesn’t crack as much of a smile. 

“Never had any time for girls,” he says.

The conversation moves onto colleges and their futures and all the things Archie avoids thinking about. Luckily, he’s gone through this discussion with enough ‘concerned adults’ to have a perfectly articulated script he follows. 

He’s going to be a mechanical engineer. Maybe start a business or something. Get married. Have a couple kids. Work and die. 

The exact opposite of what he and Tommy would talk about.

Archie supposes life chooses sacrifices for you when you refuse to do it yourself. 

It’s at the mention of mechanical engineering that Veronica comes up.

“Well, hey, if you want some credibility in that area you could help Veronica with her Pop’s project,” Jughead says. Betty looks at him oddly for it, but stays quiet, choosing to continue drinking her milkshake and looking away.

“I saw her today, actually. Ms. Patch told me and set me up to do it,” Archie says.

“Really? And you agreed, just like that?”

Archie doesn’t want to mention how he has twenty hours of community service he has to fulfill and how if he doesn’t do it Veronica will kill him in his sleep for fucking up her project. 

So instead he says, “extra credit for shop class,” as if he needs it.

“How is Veronica, by the way? We didn’t really get a chance to… talk,” Archie asks. 

“We’re not close anymore,” Betty says.

Oh, he thinks, that’s the bullshit she was talking about.

“What happened?” He asks cautiously, expecting the upcoming response.

“You,” she winces. “It sort of caused a fight when you left. None of us were on the same page about you or each other so we just… separated. Then Veronica’s parents kicked her out after she told them she had no interest in the business. It was messy.”

Archie feels hollowed out. The dust on the countertops floats up into the sunlight and captures his gaze, his mind hazy with new guilt. 

“Shit I’m-”

“Don’t apologize. It was all us,” Betty says. “Though I do wish you would have said something before skipping town and cutting us off.”

_I didn’t mean to_ , he thinks. _I got caught up in it all_.

Betty looks apologetic for snapping, and their little catch-up meets its end early. Which is fine because he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to meet Veronica at the garage in twenty minutes. She never said (being too busy throwing a tantrum about it) but Ms. Patch told Archie to expect her there at seven. 

So he does. 

The garage she’s working in is over on the southside of town, which is less of a shithole than before and more civilized after opening a few businesses and turning Southside High into a community center. With less vandalism and more plant growth, it’s growing to be just as livable as the northside. Some change is good, Archie thinks.

He sees her kneeled next to a can of paint in the artificial light, mixing it with another color and swiping it onto a disembodied car door leaning against the wall. Her hair is in two braids hanging behind her shoulders and she’s wearing a flannel of all things. Black and blue plaid rolled up to her elbows. 

The night is going dim and Archie’s starting to feel regret seep in, but he shuts off the truck and steps out, preparing for the inevitable cold shoulder.

“Hey, Ronnie,” he says. She startles, pulling an earbud out of her ear and scowling at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, habit,” Archie offers meekly, scratching the back of his neck just for something to do with his hands. He was hoping it wouldn’t be this awkward. They never were before- even when they fought constantly about absolutely everything he still didn’t consider their relationship awkward. Just heated. 

Now, though, he wants to crawl into a ditch, never to return.

“There’s a piece for you to weld over there,” she says. “You can weld, right?”

“Yeah, uh, I can. It's loud though, is that okay?”

“I know. It’s fine.”

She puts her earbud in and goes back to painting, tilting the fan placed beside her to blow air on the freshly dampened area. 

Archie sighs, taking in the rusty metal and blueprints strewn about the concrete floor.

_This is going to work_ , he thinks. Though the voice in his head is doubtful.

  
  



End file.
